Tag - late night pick – up

They came again last night. At 9p.m. The air heavy with their signature putrid stench, an unsavoury harbinger. Hanging rather comfortably, lazily even, like damp clothes draped out to dry. In minimal lighting and in no time, silhouettes of people dashed this way and that with diverse sizes of garbage from houses, from still opened kiosks, from adjoining streets. Hurried movements with little or no words except the random greetings to the handlers and their driver. Just take the trash and go. Who would have thought? The first time the dump truck appeared in our neighbourhood at this inconvenient hour, voices rose in protest: What nonsense? What’s the time? What happened during the day? Why now? How disturbing, annoying, … etc? But amongst ourselves, and not within earshot of those who had us struggling with huge – sized dustbins, opening our gates to an unexpected, late guest for public (or is it private now?) service when we should be winding down after a long day. No apology was given; even graver, none was expected. Only in our clime do paid service providers believe they are bestowing upon their clients a favour when doing their jobs. Now this brazen behaviour is becoming the new normal. This has to be their third or fourth night of collection in the last two months. And the protests have gone silent since their second time around. Once I mentioned it to a friend of mine in another neighbourhood nearby, and she stunned me when she uttered: ‘They came at 6a.m. to mine!’ And her neighbours were caught up in the scurry to rid their houses of accumulated filth. She, on the other hand, didn’t lift a limb. But spent a few memorable days inhaling the stench of that decision. And that’s, most likely, what propels us in our neighbourhood. The city’s one big dump, a sight for sores eyes as we drive through it . Our leaders and the politics they engage in are just as dirty – smearing our economy(and us) even further. We refuse to harbour refuse in our houses either, our place”more